


Our time by the sea

by Eyp



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, No. 6 Secret Santa 2018, and makes a decision, and then life decides to smack him on the face with the unexpected, he comes to realize the walls he built around himself are crumbling, it's been six year since nezumi left, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 18:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyp/pseuds/Eyp
Summary: “Shion,” he manages somehow, and his voice sounds better than he expected. “No open windows this time?”And Shion smiles. It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t reach his open, earnest eyes.“I’ve always been good at finding options no one else sees, remember? Even if it wasn’t planned this time.”[Translation in Russian available. Link in the notes]





	Our time by the sea

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as my gift to @thepenguininspace for the No.6 Secret Santa 2018. The original was posted on the no6secretsanta Tumblr page (if you like these boys go check that blog! There are so many good stories and amazing art ♥) but I didn't have time too proofread when I submited it, so here's the edited, improved version haha  
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ***
> 
> TRANSLATION IN RUSSIAN AVAILABLE:  
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/7858596 
> 
> Thanks to @TauNeutrinos for translating this, it means a lot! ♥

On the summer of his twentieth birthday, Nezumi arrives at Eucalipto, a small town by the sea that’s just one hour away from No.3 by car. Lazy clouds and a crisp breeze welcome him. He approaches the shoreline and takes a look at the waves, unfurling with a soft murmur on the sand, and decides to stay.

He finds a job in a coffee shop called Amapola. The owners, a woman in her forties named Karina, and her wife, Laura, are kind and cheerful, and he settles in easily in a new routine.

He dares to feel lucky and life laughs openly at him after two weeks, when he gets the flu and can barely make it out of bed without feeling like his head might explode. Karina and Laura are awfully kind. They take turns to visit him, bringing him warm homemade meals and calling a doctor for him when he comes down with a fever.

He’s not used to having others taking care of him, he’s always been independent and self-sufficient, after all. So, when the lonely, defensive part of him bristles at the soft touch of Karina’s hand on his forehead, he barely has time to force himself not to flinch.

She notices anyway.

“Who hurt you, Nezumi?” she asks, voice barely a whisper. And he’s too tired and too worn out by the exhaustion the sickness has spread through his body to deflect the question as he usually would.

So he says: “it was a long time ago”, and Karina hums before deftly turning the conversion to a different subject.

Somehow, his hard edges soften after that. Something shifts and uncurls inside him and, for a week, he dreams of open windows and loud storms. He had seen it coming for a long time but chose to ignore it firmly in favour of clinging to the comfort of his indifference and solitude, both familiar fortresses that helped him survive in the past.

He recovers the day a lukewarm drizzle falls over the town and goes back to his work at the coffee shop. He stays until the end of the summer and, as Laura pulls him into a hug, a part of him wonders when will he see them again.

“We’ll let you know if we ever need another pair of hands,” she says after letting go of him.

“Please do. It’s a wonder you managed to run this place without me before.”

Karina laughs, and he ends up being embraced again.

He leaves for No.3 with a clouded heart and has half a mind to not think too much about it.

No.3 is certainly beautiful but it takes him time to fall into its rhythm. After a month, he writes a short letter to Karina and Laura to let them know his address (“in case you ever need me to help save the shop from the tourist tide”) and to tell them he is auditioning for a role in the city’s main theater.

He gets the role and both Karina and Laura come see him in the opening night. After that, it's only natural for him to stay in the city until the season is over. He’s making plans to go to a village that sits on the path between No.3 and No.5 when someone hears him singing to himself one day after they’re wrapping up a rehearsal and, well, there’s a musical lined up for the next season so, why doesn’t he stay a little longer? 

Taking the decision to stay it’s not as hard as he would have anticipated.

As time goes by, he stays in touch with Karina and Laura, who come see him perform a couple of more times. No.3 becomes familiar, comfortable, but he doesn't call it home, not yet, because there are still pieces of him that shift uncomfortably at the thought and he has caught more than one sigh making knots in his throat on nights when he can’t fall asleep.

He realizes this is the closest he has ever been to settling down but, the fact that he could just pack his things and leave any given day if he truly wanted, gives him some sort of solace. He _doesn't want to_ , though, and that’s the thing, isn't it? That contradiction. It might also be the reason for having memories of No.6 coming to him more frequently than ever before.

That is not to say he has ever stopped thinking of it. The same way he has never stopped thinking of Shion, although the first year after leaving him he did try to keep him out of his mind, but it proved to be a fruitless endeavor. And he had been a fool long enough before, trying to stop the inevitable, so this time he accepted it unwillingly. But even though their shared time together was an ever-present memory ever since, sometimes it faded to the back of his mind for days on end and he could go a full week without looking up at the sky and hoping for a storm. Now, Shion comes back to him every time he goes back to the place his renting after a rehearsal, every time someone smiles kindly and genuinely, every time the sun rises and sets.

He goes on like this for two years, watching the leaves turn and the weather change, letting acquaintances turn into tentative friendships as he looks over his walls, wondering when did they start to crumble—and knowing the exact answer.

A bittersweet longing grows slowly in the silence of his nights, until it’s so heavily wrapped around his core he can almost feel it physically weighing his every move. It reaches a breaking on a night out with his coworkers, while celebrating the closing night of their latest performance. He gets caught staring off into space at least ten times and his tongue feels like lead every time he tries to laugh it off. When he goes back to the apartment he’s renting, he doesn’t think much about it as he throws his backpack and duffel bag open on his bed and starts packing.

It’s been enough.

The next morning, as if on cue, he gets a letter from Karina, asking him to come visit since summer is around the corner. He doesn’t dwell on it, after all, his luggage is ready to go on a corner of his room.

Nezumi arrives at Eucalipto around noon. The sun is on its zenith, but a cold wind is rising so he walks briskly towards Amapola and smiles when the familiar bell rings softly as he opens the door. Karina, behind the counter, whirls around at the sound and a smile blooms quickly on her lips.

“Can I have the largest serving of lemon pie? I’m starving.”

She walks up to meet him and pulls him into a hug. And Nezumi has never been one for hugging, even after all this time, even after being forced to see all his contradictions and all his weak excuses, but he hugs her back easily and without a single question rising in the back of his mind.

***

Tourists start pouring in Eucalipto soon enough and Amapola bustles with life. Nezumi falls back into his role as a waiter without a single misstep but soon enough it becomes obvious they need another pair of hands, so Laura brings in her niece to help in the busy hours of the afternoon. The girl, a fifteen year old called Maya, is smart and cheerful, and the routine becomes manageable again.

One morning, he’s cleaning up a table, back to the front door, when the bell chimes softly. He walks up to the counter and Maya takes the tray with the dirty dishes from him. “Three menus to one of the tables by the window,” she says before disappearing into the kitchen. He picks the menus and turns around.

Later, he will wonder how he did not see right away, how he did not notice, but at the moment his attention is divided by a menu that has been folded the wrong way and by Karina suddenly calling him with a question in her voice.

“Nezumi?”

He stops at turns his head just as he hears something close to a gasp coming from close proximity. The sound filters through his brain as unimportant, background noise, so he hardly even registers it, focusing instead on the wallet Karina is holding up in one hand. “Is this yours?” she mouths slowly. Nezumi frowns and shakes his head, quickly closing the distance towards the new customers as his hands deftly fix the menu that had caught his attention before.

A smile settles easily on his face as he looks up. “Welcome to—”

He sees him then. A striking white color crowning a face that’s equal parts surprise and wonder, a pink scar curling tenderly on the left cheek.

_Shion_.

He feels the air leaving his lungs so fast it makes him dizzy as his smile freezes and his voice dies in his throat, because Shion is sitting right there, looking at him, wide eyed and different, but the same all at once.

“Nezumi,” he says, barely a whisper, a weak question voiced in a tremulous voice.

“Nezumi? Is this, are you really you?” and that voice—-Inukashi. He sweeps his eyes over the table. Shion’s mom, Inukashi and a little boy that must be that baby Inukashi saved back then, six years ago. It’s takes him a second too long to pull himself together.

“Still so eloquent, Inukashi,” he manages, fingers tightening around the menus he’s still holding.

Inukashi lets out a sound that’s half a snort, half a laugh and, when they answer, there’s no bite in their voice. “I was hoping it’d be some kind of optical illusion.”

“Nezumi, it’s so nice to see you again. You look well,” Karan says, smiling up at him, gentle and honest.

And if he feels a little bit like drowning, he makes sure to hide it behind a smile.

“Why, ma’am, thank you,” he tilts his head in acknowledgment and his eyes fly back to Shion’s. “Shion,” he manages somehow, and his voice sounds better than he expected. “No open windows this time?”

And Shion smiles. It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t reach his open, earnest eyes.

“I’ve always been good at finding options no one else sees, remember? Even if it wasn’t planned this time.”

Then, by some divine force he’s not willing to question, he hears the doorbell chiming softly, announcing more customers. He gathers his thoughts quickly and wields a practiced smile. “Ah, excuse me, here are your menus,” he says as he hands them down. “I’ll be back in a bit to get your orders.”

He avoids Shion’s eyes as he walks away, going behind the counter and consciously avoiding to turn around.

“Nezumi?” Karina places a hand on his shoulder, her voice soft. “Are you alright?”

He nods silently and almost mourns for the time when it would take at least a gun to his head or a knife to his throat to frazzle his nerves. Almost.

Outside, grey clouds gather on the sky, the preface of rain.

***

At the end of his shift, around 7 pm., Shion is waiting for him outside. He asked him to, when he approached the counter to pay for their meal. A faint drizzle is falling over the town and the sun peeks from behind the clouds every now and then. He borrows an umbrella from Laura, because he doesn’t feel like risking falling ill again, and finds Shion with his hands in his pockets, looking skyward.

“Shion.”

He turns immediately, smiling, and it’s a novelty to be at the receiving end of that gaze after such a long time.

“Nezumi.”

He doesn’t rush for words, this time, choosing to let his gaze trace the changes time has outlined in Shion’s face instead. They both are just staring at this point and they know it, but earlier the circumstances hadn’t really let them _see_ each other, not properly.

Nezumi is the first to break the silence.

“You let your hair grow.”

“And you cut yours.”

Two elderly women leave the coffee shop and the door closes with a click behind them. Nezumi feels a little bit like laughing hysterically when he suddenly remembers his luggage sitting on a corner of his room, back in No.3, right before he got Karina’s letter.

But he’s quick to reign himself in and steps fully to the sidewalk.

“It was more practical this way.”

“Of course.”

Shion joins him under the umbrella and their shoulders would brush if not for their thick coats.

“Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

***

They walk along the street that curls around the beach and the fine rain seems to muffle all the sounds around them. Only the constant music of the sea disturbs the world around them.

Nezumi asks about their trip, deciding to put an end to the silence, and Shion seems pleased to tell him about it. “It was last minute thing,” he says, explaining how their schedules never matched properly, what with his mother’s bakery always running and Inukashi managing their hotel —”yes, it is a proper one now, although the dogs still help around”— but, if he was honest, his work had been the biggest factor. “Things are better now, more or less settled, I’d say. But everything… it still demands a lot of my time. It doesn’t bother me though, I like to keep myself busy—” he hesitates, sighs and makes a vague gesture with one of his hands. “I was getting tired of being told I needed to stop being a workaholic so when the opportunity to take some days off presented itself I decided to go for it. And, well—a friend of my mother had visited this town not long ago and spoke wonders of the place. Now here we are.”

He finishes with a smile but suddenly seems to trip over it, unsure, and looks away for a second.

“I didn’t know—if you think I came because—”

“No,” Nezumi cuts him off, quick and certain. He remembers Shion’s eyes from earlier. The Shion he knew wouldn’t have been able to fake an emotion like that. “No, I don’t. It’s just a—” coincidence? Another word sits at the tip of his tongue and it tastes a lot like _fate_ , but he ignores it. “It’s a small world, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Shion agrees. “Yes, it is.”

They start walking back and it’s Nezumi’s turn to answer questions. He tells Shion about how he met Karina and Laura, about his work in No.3 and the life in the city. Shion’s gaze wavers while he listens but he carefully looks away every time. Nezumi notices anyway and his knuckles turn white around the umbrella handle.

Shion stops by his side and Nezumi looks at him, then at their surroundings. He feels like laughing for the second time that day and this time Shion picks up on it.

“What is it?”

“This inn. I stayed here the first time I came to the town.”

Shion chuckles. The sound is so soft Nezumi has to strain his ears to hear it.

“Which room did you have?”

“Third floor, the one on the left facing the street.”

Shion _laughs_ this time. And Nezumi is smiling at him, suddenly. “You are not serious.”

“I am, why would I lie?”

“Because that’s my room now.”

“And how would I know that?”

Shion shakes his head, still smiling. Some white strands of hair slip loose from his ponytail and Nezumi gets the urge to reach out and touch it.

And he does. It’s a gesture he thought long forgotten but it feels deeply familiar—yet so alien under this different sky. Shion freezes, all of him at once, and Nezumi thinks he must have stopped breathing to stand so still. His hair is soft under his fingertips, just as he remembers it, and he arranges it carefully back, but it falls forward again, stubborn.

His hand drops. Around them, the rain has stopped, but neither is paying enough attention no notice.

“I don’t know,” Shion mutters, picking up the forgotten conversation with a quiet voice. Nezumi has to admire his focus. “You always seemed to _know_ things, before.”

His eyes are veiled with a sadness that brings back a day were they both stood on a small hill, overlooking what a ruinous city had become thanks to their actions.

“Well, you weren’t really perceptive back then, were you? And I’ve always been a talented actor.” Nezumi lets the admission sink in. They both knew, of course, but it’s different if he says it out loud.

The wind picks up. Shion should probably go back inside.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks, with no pretenses or tricky questions, and Nezumi wants to smile, because Shion hasn’t changed that much after all. He had told Shion he would be back to see what kind of person he had become and maybe this, this moment, is all the answer he needed.

“After my shift is over, yes. I cannot leave my work unattended.”

“Of course.”

Shion looks down and Nezumi simply _knows_.

“Shion. I’ll be there.”

Shion nods. “Alright. Tomorrow then.”

After that there's no hug, handshake or goodnight kiss. He just smiles and turns for the door. Nezumi waits until he's inside and repeats to himself: _tomorrow_. Not four years, nor six, _tomorrow._

He should go back to the inn he's staying at, but his feet carry him back to Amapola. The sign says “closed” but he can see lights inside, so he lets himself in.

Laura is behind the counter when he enters and as she looks at him, her gaze softens.

“Is he the mysterious boy you mentioned once?” she asks with no preamble.

Nezumi—doesn't know how to answer that. Had he told them about Shion? But then again, about whom else could it have been?

“Did I happen to mention him two years ago while I was down with a fever, maybe?”

Karina comes out of the kitchen, tray in hand carrying three cups of tea. “Yes, you did.”

Nezumi takes off his coat and sits on the same table he had found Shion at hours ago. He doesn't answer Laura's question, but she doesn't push, and he’s thankful for that.

He drinks his tea in silence, listening to their easy conversation. At some point, there's a beat, two, and the words tumble out of his mouth without his consent.

“Shion—he is… he used to be something I feared.”

Karina accepts this bit of information as if she is used to him blurting things out of the blue. She hums quietly, as she often does when she's mulling over something. “And now?” she asks.

Nezumi shakes his head. “I'm not sure.”

Laura smiles and looks at her wife. “Well” she starts, “I used to be pretty afraid of you, remember?”

Karina laughs brightly. “That's one way of putting it, yes.”

Nezumi knows where they're going with this. He wants to resent them for it but can't. He started the conversation anyway.

“It turned out pretty well for us,” Laura declares, raising her teacup to her lips. Nezumi just looks at them for a moment, at how they are sitting in close proximity and how their bodies seem to naturally align, reacting to the push and pull from the other. “Listen, Nezumi, you have never stricken me as a fool—”

“—why, thank you—”

“Shush, don't interrupt your elders.” Karina stifles a laugh at that. “You have never stricken me as a fool so _don't be a fool_. And don't let fear turn you into one either.”

***

When Nezumi goes to work the next day, Karina sends him away.

“You go sort out your life, young man, we'll manage.”

“What—”

“You should take a day off anyway,” and that's Laura, sticking her head out of the kitchen, “because you have been around for two weeks with no breaks or whatsoever and I’m quite sure that's not legal.”

“I don't think—”

“That you'd feel good about us breaking the law, right?” Karina walks up to him and he thinks maybe it would have been better not to offer any resistance. “What did Laura say to you yesterday?”

“That she wanted my eyelashes?”

Karina rolls her eyes. “Smartass. You're insufferable,” she reproaches him, but there's fondness in her gaze. “Don't be a fool, Nezumi. Now stop stalling and go.”

He contradicts her, just to be stubborn.

“I could just go back to the inn—”

“Yeah, right. Off with you, now.”

He does not go back to the inn.

Instead, he walks towards the sea, stopping briefly when he gets to the intersection with the street where Shion and the rest are staying. But he doesn’t turn, not this time, and soon enough he’s on the path that lines itself with the beach, scanning distractedly the horizon.

It’s still early, probably just past nine am., but the sun feels as warm as if it was the middle of the day and no one would think it was cloudy the day before. There are a few groups of people on the shoreline. Some walk leisurely, staying close to water, and others play with the sand and lay down under the sun.

He walks for a while longer before he spots them. Shion is unmistakable; his white hair gets ruffled by the wind and he redoes his ponytail with a quick motion. His mother sits by his side and, closer to sea, Inukashi and the little boy play on the strip of sand that has been recently kissed by the water.

He could turn back and they probably wouldn’t even notice him, he thinks, but he’s already walking to the nearest opening and moving towards them.

Karan sees him first, when he’s still a few meters away. He can see her moving her hand to Shion’s shoulder, whispering something and squeezing lightly. She waves at him and Shion turns.

“Nezumi?”

He approaches them with an easy smile on his face. A walking contradiction.

“I thought—you said you had work?”

Nezumi nods. “I did, but Karina gave me the day off.”

“That’s—” he pauses, breathes in quietly, “that’s really nice of her.”

He thinks back to her and Laura telling him to sort out of his life and decides not to mention their real reasoning. “What brought you to start the day so early? I thought you were supposed to sleep in during a vacation.”

Shion smiles and shrugs. “We all are morning people and I wouldn’t be able to sleep any longer even if I tried.”

“Oh, but don’t stand there, Nezumi, dear, come sit,” Karan says, gesturing to a free spot in the blanket they had spread over the sand.

So he does. Inukashi must see him then, because they wave at him and shout something that sounds a lot like “took you long enough” and then turn their attention back to what must be a sand castle in the making.

“How have you been, Nezumi? We didn’t really have the chance to talk yesterday”, Karan asks, bringing his attention back.

“Ah, yes. I’ve been well, ma’am. I’m staying in Eucalipto for the summer.”

Her smiles widens a fraction at that and he can see there’s a lot of Shion in that expression. Or there’s a lot of Karan in Shion. Either way, he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be on receiving end of her kindness.

“It’s a nice town. I’m glad we could come.” She turns around and picks up a straw beach bag. “It’s time to have breakfast. Here, Nezumi, take this.” She takes out three carefully wrapped sandwiches and apple juice boxes and hands him one of each. “I’m glad I brought enough to spare. Shion, here, have yours.”

Nezumi looks down at his hands and hears the waves hitting the shore distantly. “Thank you,” he says, thinking it seems surreal, all of it, and—maybe he’s imagining the whole thing, maybe he got the flu again after arriving and now he’s lying on his bed at the inn, delirious with fever.

It’s a possibility.

“I hope you like cranberry jam. It’s homemade.”

Nezumi looks up and shoots a sideway glance to Shion, who looks back at him without reserves.

No, he’s definitely not sick or delirious. There’s no way he could come up with this level of detail and with the myriad of emotions that always seem to inhabit Shion’s eyes.

“Yes, I do. I’m sure it’s delicious,” he says, unfolding the foil paper with deft, quick fingers. “Shion told me you still have the bakery?”

“I do. I like to keep myself busy and thankfully I have loyal clients.”

Karan is easy to talk to. She’s perceptive, keenly so, and seems to know exactly when to push and when it’s better to change the subject. The conversation stretches for a few minutes, until Inukashi and Shionn come back, sand sticking to their clothes and hands.

“Shionn, say hi to Nezumi”, Inukashi instructs, soft voiced like he never hear them before.

Shionn complies, rising a small hand and mumbling “Hi, ‘ezumi”.

Nezumi shows him his most tender smile, a gentle one, practiced through countless roles, and greets Shionn in a soft, melodious voice. “It’s nice to see you again, Shionn.”

The boy is enthralled, he takes Nezumi’s hand and asks for food without letting go.

“Look at him, he fell for your act already,” Inukashi complains, hands on their hips. “Hey, I was thinking of taking Shionn to the town’s square. I heard it’s really nice and I’d like to go to the farmer’s market too. I’m not interested on eating out every day.”

“I’ll go with you,” Karan says, already collecting their empty juice boxes and hanging the straw bag on her shoulder. “You boys stay here and enjoy the day. I trust we’ll see you again, Nezumi?”

And he barely has time to react or object. He just nods and watches them walk away.

“Don’t you want to go with them?” he asks, meeting Shion’s eyes.

He sighs.

“Nezumi, I see my mother almost every day and Inukashi visits us quite often. I haven’t seen _you_ in six years, so what do you think?”

He sounds a little annoyed. Nezumi looks at the sea for a moment, letting the meaning behind those words settle within him.

“Fair enough,” he says, standing up. “Do you want to walk?”

They fold the blanket after shaking the sand off of it and Nezumi hangs it on his arm.

“I had almost forgotten you could do that”, Shion says, as soon as they start getting closer to the water.

“Do what?”

“The thing with your voice. When you talked to Shionn, you changed it.”

He feigns offense. “You forgot my artistic talent? How rude.”

“What? No, no, I just—nevermind,” he sounds mildly annoyed again, but there’s a smile on his lips and Nezumi can see it reaching his eyes.

It’s the sense of normalcy, he knows. The vague feeling of this being just a walk by the sea —but it is not—, of them being just two friends who are meeting after some time apart —and they are not.

“Hey, let’s go in?” he asks, suddenly.

“Uh?”

“To the water. Let’s go.”

“Wha—But, Nezumi, isn’t it cold at this hour?”

Nezumi shrugs, walking away from the water and letting the blanket drop to the dry sand. He takes off his shoes and rolls up his pants. Shion is standing still. Just looking at him.

“Are you coming?”

He doesn’t expect an answer, jogging up to the sea and hearing a quick “wait!” soon enough. He lets the water wash over his feet and closes his eyes for a second. Shion joins him and lets out an undignified squeal when the cold sea makes contact with his skin.

Nezumi laughs openly at him.

“It is cold! I told you!”

“Did I ever say it wasn’t, Your Majesty?”

_Uh._

Time freezes for just a second.

The nickname slipped without him really noticing until it was too late, and Shion is looking at him with an emotion he can even begin to decipher. The seconds stretch like they would under a magic spell—he counts only three, but they feel like thirty. In a blink, the moment is over and gone, because Shion is running towards him and trying to smack his arm. Nezumi dodges, twirls, and Shion chases. The water splashes around their ankles and for a while that’s all he hears: the sea, the wind and Shion’s laughter, bright and breathless.

They are both panting a little when they walk back to their things. Nezumi lies down on the sand looking up at the sky and for a moment all he sees is blue, endless and perfect.

“You’ll get sand all over,” Shion says, but he’s lying down next to him with no care at all.

They stay like this for a moment. The sun warms their skin and a breeze dries the water off their ankles and feet. He can hear Shion breathing regularly next to him and knows this is a moment to be treasured, one he would have never dared to dream of because it was outside of the possibilities of what he thought he could want.

Shion shifts, his breath changes, and the moment is over.

“I’m going to ruin this now,” he says, and there’s an apology in his voice.

Nezumi snorts but can’t bring himself to feel annoyed, not truly.

“Thank you for warning me.”

“You’re welcome.” He hears him shift next to him again and suddenly his field of vision changes. Shion is sitting up now and looming over him. Nezumi blinks to adjust to the change in the light. “I have a question for you.”

He sees a strand of hair white falling forward and reaches up, but Shion catches his hand in his and he decides to focus on keeping his breathing even. “Ask away.”

Shion averts his gaze for the briefest second. “Are you still afraid of me?”

And he’s suddenly back in the coffee shop, Laura’s eyes clear and determined. Don’t be a fool, she said.

He turns his hand and laces his fingers through Shion’s. “You still remember that.”

Shion has his gaze fixed on their joined hands. His voice shakes a little when he answers. “Well, yes. It was one of the last things you said before leaving, how could I forget?”

Nezumi nods. “I had hoped you would pay more mind to the other things I said that day. But—alright; no, I’m not afraid of you and yes, I am still afraid of you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does. What I mean is—” he squeezes Shion’s hand lightly, looking directly at him. “I’m afraid, Shion, but not in the same way I was back then.”

“How, then?”

Nezumi shakes his head. “Isn’t one question enough?”

“Of course not, I still don’t—”

“Shion, I can’t explain it right now.” And he can see Shion wants to protest, he can see in his eyes how his mind is whirring incessantly.

But maybe he knows Nezumi well enough to know what he means, because he doesn’t push. Instead, he lets himself fall forward, his face pressed against Nezumi’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers suddenly, and Nezumi is about voice his confusion when he notices Shion’s shoulders are shaking.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. _Shit._

He’s apologizing for _crying_ , the absolute airhead, and the lump in Nezumi’s throat is so painful he can barely get any air in.

“I missed you. I missed you so much.” His voice breaks and Nezumi wonders how much effort it took for him to hold it all in until now. To put on a smile for Nezumi’s sake. “I’m sorry.”

He manages to find his voice, somehow, even if it sounds foreign in its brittleness.

“Don’t—don’t apologize, Shion,” he mutters, and his free hand finds its way to Shion’s hair. He threads his fingers through it carefully, over and over again, until the tremors stop and Shion is just lying there, breathing him in.

“I’m a mess,” it’s the first thing he says, and his voice still sounds hoarse.

Nezumi inhales deeply, feeling a warm wetness pooling in the corners of his eyes. “I think we both are.”

***

They are staying only for three more days. Shion needs to go back to his work, Karan to the bakery, and Inukashi to their hotel.

Nezumi doesn’t want to think too much about it, not after what happened on the beach, so he settles for making the most of the time they have left, even though he can feel the hours slipping through his fingers quickly, way too quickly. So, for the last three days, they meet after Nezumi’s shift is over and he shows Shion all his favorite places in Eucalipto. One day they go to the ice cream shop by the gazebo in the town’s square and then they visit the artisans’ market that surrounds a small park close to the main road. Next, Nezumi takes him to the hill that oversees the town and the sea, and they have dinner in a restaurant Laura recommended.

Shion meets everything with genuine delight and they have an implicit agreement not to talk about the past during this time. They both have had enough of that and Nezumi doesn’t know how they would manage to bring it up without mentioning the future again. And that’s the elephant in the room he’s been avoiding. Shion must know, surely, and he doesn’t dare to start wondering why he hasn’t asked him about it yet.

Is he afraid of what Nezumi could say?

If that’s it, he can’t blame. Not after the weak answer he gave him just days ago.

The last day comes and it finds them on the beach again, sitting shoulder to shoulder as the sun begins to set. Nezumi wants to laugh at himself, at them both, because it’s all too cliché to be taken seriously, but his chest weights him painfully and any word he could use to cut through the feeling flies away as soon as he tries to catch it.

He can, however, hear Laura’s advice way too clearly in his head.

“Shion”; he starts, and can feel him tensing by his side. “Do you remember what I told you the first day, when you asked me why I was here?”

There’s a pause.

“Yes,” he says. There’s a sigh, quiet, small. “Nezumi, you don’t—”

“I do. Let me finish.” He turns around and Shion mimics him so they’re facing each other. “There’s something I didn’t mention. When I got Karina’s letter asking me to come visit, I was about to leave No.3. I had been thinking about it for a long time and—” he pauses, looks at the sea for a moment. The clouds are painted in soft golden colors. “I had already packed my things, Shion. When I read Karina’s letter and I decided to come here, this was going to be my last stop.”

Shion is silent, wide eyed. He tries to say something but fails. Nezumi takes pity on him and holds one of his hands.

“I was going back Shion. To No.6. To you.”

Shion looks down, drawing in a shaky breath. Nezumi hears him curse quietly.

“Language,” he calls smiling a bit, and raises his free hand to cradle the curve of Shion’s cheek, lifting his face up. His eyes are bright and his eyelashes stick together, wet with unshed tears.

“I—I’m fine. Go on.”

Nezumi feels his smile grow and he wonders how he could have been so blind, how he could have not _seen_ what was right in front of him. But there’s no point in blaming himself now. He wasn’t the same. And maybe, just maybe, the time they spent apart was what he needed to understand what he had tried so vehemently to avoid.

“Ever since I settled in No.3, there hasn’t been a day I have not thought of you. It was unnerving, and rightly so, not being able to control or understand why I couldn’t keep going as I had up until that point. But I get it now.” He sweeps his thumb under Shion’s left eye and moves his hand up to fix a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I was trying to make No.3 my home, Shion, without even noticing, but it could have never been my home, no matter how much I tried, because you weren’t there.”

Shion lets out a strangled sound then and Nezumi shifts, rearranging his position so he’s on his knees, cupping Shion’s face with both hands.

And there’s so much _love_ in Shion’s gaze. So much longing, open and honest.

It still scares him, but he won’t repeat his mistakes.

“Would you wait for me a little longer?”

“Wha—” Shion’s voice breaks and Nezumi shifts closer.

 “I’ll go to you, once the summer is over. I’ll go, if you will still have me.”

Shion hiccups once and the tears pooling in his eyes fall freely. “What kind of—” he starts, his voice a tremor. “What kind of question is that? You… you idiot. God, Nezumi, I waited for you for six years, didn’t I?”

_Yes_ , he thinks as he leans in and their lips met. _Yes, you did._

He can feel Shion hands settling on his shoulders and moving up to the back of his neck. His touch is so gentle and soft that pulling away is almost painful.

“Should I leave the window open?”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. “I was thinking I should try a more conventional approach; knocking on your door, maybe?”

“Since when have you been conventional?”

“Right,” he threads his fingers through Shion’s hair and he’s already wishing for the days to go by faster, for the month to end quickly, so he can do this every day.

He didn’t know he was capable of feeling this. Didn’t even suspect. So he leans in and kisses him again. It last longer, this time, and when they break apart Shion is no longer crying.

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

***

Shion leaves the next day. He goes to see him off and to say goodbye to Karan and Inukashi.

“Will we be hearing from you anytime soon or we’ll have to wait another six years?” Inukashi asks unceremoniously.

“Less than six years.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Patience is a valuable virtue, haven’t you heard?”

“Shion is a saint then.”

Shion just shakes his head but there’s a smile on his lips. It lights up his whole face and Nezumi can’t quite believe it’s because of him.

Karan hugs him and wishes him the best, reminding him her home will be always open for him. Nezumi thanks her, and then there’s him and Shion again, a new promise, and another kiss.

Back in the coffee shop, Karina has her arms around him as soon as he steps in.

“You listened to us!” she sing-songs, and he doesn’t even question how on earth does she knows.

There’s only one certainty left now, settled deep in his heart.

Once he goes back, he won’t leave Shion again.


End file.
